


Discipline

by orphan_account



Category: Diablo (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, same line as obedience lol, v gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8348224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Shouting matches are a good reason to fuck, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Gems](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Gems/gifts).



> Miss_Gems wanted more submissive Imperius, and mentioned the lacking amount of smut in this fandom....  
> I live to serve, guys. Enjoy.

It’s odd, seeing the way Malthael treats Imperius. Not quite _respectfully,_ but with almost an air of restraint. He also seems surprised when Valor steps out of line, often acting as if he expects the larger archangel to behave. No one has yet to get any answers on the reasons for this, and the ones in question don't speak a word of whatever it is they do in private.

One day it comes to a rather bizarre head; as typical, Justice and Valor are living up to their names as they lock horns in a shouting match. The door flies open and Malthael steps in, the rich violet of his wings shivering in agitation.

“ _Heel, you oversized gold nugget!_ ” He booms, hand out, palm-down. Immediately, Imperius goes dead silent and meek, fire-gorged wings going dim and flush to his back as he shrinks away from Tyrael. The three are gaping, to put it succinctly, but before anyone can even voice a question, Wisdom has the larger archangel yanked down to his level by what looks like a studded leather collar.

“Did you think I wouldn't hear you shouting?” A timid mumble is the only reply, and the eldest jerks him even closer, ignoring the massive hands curling oh-so-delicately around his own slender arm. “And with _Tyrael,_ no less. I have taught you better than this.”

“He disagreed-”

“As he is allowed to! You disagree on the regular. it is hypocritical and wrong to not give him the same opportunities. Am I clear enough, or do I have to pry that golden bucket off of your head so you may hear my words?” A _tiny_ sound, one that hardly belonged in Imperius’s throat, squeezes out timidly.

“Malthael, _please,_ ”

“Do not _plead_ with me, you overgrown rust collector. Answer my question.”

“Yes, I understand.” A long moment of stillness permeates the room before Valor is let up, shrinking down into his place as if he just witnessed Diablo in the Silver City itself. Wisdom looks around the room, daring anyone to say a word, and flows out just as he came in, the door closing behind him.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Imperius wheezes, sinking into his seat uncomfortably and looking away from the other three. They leave, and Itherael follows their sister out to the Gardens of Hope, Tyrael wandering off to his typical stomping grounds. Of course, Imperius has somewhere important to be.

\------

“I can't believe you're so _rash,_ ” Wisdom bit out, shooting a withering stare to his pet. He was tied so neatly to a chair, having sat statue-still for him as the red silken rope bound him up like a parcel.

“I'm sorry.”

“You should be!” He huffs, stepping closer and grabbing a hold of that helmet, pulling it upright to stare into it.

“I had pushed my boundaries too far,” Valor conceded, chest shuddering with each breath. He knows this is supposed to be punishment for misconduct but _by Anu_ it was arousing. Vulnerable and exposed like this in front of Malthael, he feels smaller than he is and so weak. It’s one of his favorite sensations. Of course, there are precautions; the eldest isn't called _Wisdom_ for no reason. He’s pried from his wandering thoughts at touches slipping up under the collar pressed firmly but not too tightly to his neck. Kisses follow, slow and butterfly-light.

“You're enjoying this,” the smaller observes, hollowed voice making gooseflesh spring up over his chest and arms.

“I am,” he whispers, wings fluttering audibly at his back.

“Good.” Those skinny fingers slide downward, brushing over places that send him into a dizzy spell.

“Master,” he grits out, shuddering at the tickle of teeth against his collarbones. It's almost too much, especially after being disciplined. There’s a delighted nose against his chest and that mouth drags up, resting at his neck.

“Who is your master?”

“You are.”

“That's right,” Malthael purred, sucking a mark into that glittering skin that matches the deep blue-grey of his robes. Valor can feel the way his eyes roll back in pleasure, hips lifting as much as they can in search of friction. Another slick mark is left on the other side, stark and almost-painful.

“Please, oh heavens please…” a lovely chuckle rumbles up and his knees are pushed together, the elder sliding to straddle his weighty thighs. They’re so close together and thin arms curl loosely around his neck, one hand massaging low between his wings while the other keeps his limp head up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Very good.”

“Perfect.” Malthael eases them into a kiss, sweeping his pet’s mouth open gently and working his way in, leaving the taste of fine sugar behind. Every time Imperius obeys one of his silent commands, there’s a reward; be it a _little_ more of that intoxicating taste, a gentle touch in a place that drives him wild, or--frustratingly--a long, lazy stroke. They break apart after a long moment, a shiny thread of sticky saliva bridging the gap. Valor licks it up with the desperation of a starving man eating a meal, and wriggles against his bindings at another agonizing stroke.

“Master, that feels amazing,” he says hoarsely, shivering as another trail of bites traces a path over his neck, brushing against his jaw. Teeth clench around his collar, tugging it gently while both those elegant hands set to work; one bracing Wisdom using the heft of a shoulder, the other sliding down to help ease Imperius in.

“Mm. It has been some time since we last  did this,” Malthael admits, glancing downward to ensure everything was going smoothly. It was a sight to behold and he shuddered at the deep sensation. Every part of Imperius was _enormous,_ to put it lightly, and to Wisdom’s delight, his cock was no exception. There’s a vague noise above his head--he looks up, and smirks at the sweet sight of the younger archangel drooling, head lolled back. He takes the opportunity to leave another hickey, brilliant against the skin of one chiseled-from-stone collarbone. He purrs and traces the outline with a cool fingertip, running it up to curl under the collar and give a teasing pull just as he sinks to the hilt. It's a viscerally _good_ feeling, deep and weighty in his belly. There's a long moment where they just sit there, hot breaths filling the room. There’s that pulling sensation on Imperius’s neck, then an obscene, wet pop when his small master leaves yet another mark on his bared neck. He groans weakly and jerks his hips as far as the restraints will let him, earning a guttural sound from Malthael.

“ _Yes,_ ” the eldest hisses, fingers digging in as he shifts to roll his hips up again. It hardly moves them, but it gets him slightly deeper; he writhes at the sensation of a hand pushing on him from the outside, a gentle press through all the layers of flesh and muscle. “You make my gut swell out a bit. _Delicious._ ”

“I-I need more…” a sweet chuckle and those hips lift, sliding lewdly against the well-worked muscle of his belly. They roll prettily, smearing salty dribbles along the bottom of his ribs before they drop again, abruptly. He jolts up to meet them and drives himself _so_ achingly deep, it’s already almost too much. A noise so pretty only another archangel could make it fills his ears and he worries his lip between his teeth, shallow pants making his chest flutter. Wisdom starts to move more quickly, a rude bouncing that makes their skin slap together disgustingly. He drops his face into the crook of his pet’s neck, only stopping to roll his hips again, savoring the filling, pacifying sensation. At some not-quite-conscious point, he wraps a scrawny hand low and tight around his needy cock, working it in time with each movement of his hips. Imperius has taken to muttering gibberish, too far gone to really make much of any noise, not with the feeling he’s experiencing. Each jumpy, needy movement drags heat into the pit of his stomach, scalding and wound taut. It gets tighter and tighter with every little sensation, and he wheezes when he feels it suddenly snap. He arches hard and the chair he’s bound to _creaks_ dangerously under the strain, Malthael crying out at taking in such sticky, wet warmth. His release comes not a second later, faintly glowing off-white painting over the rich color of Valor’s skin. They both sink weakly, shivering at the tingly pleasantness of afterglow.

“G-give me one moment, and I'll get us cleaned up,” the elder mutters, nuzzling his face further into the well-muscled junction of shoulder and neck that belongs to his pet.

“Take your time,” Imperius breaths out, hoping they get to stay like this a while longer.


End file.
